


How the Mighty Fall

by inthequeensenglish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Major Character Injury, Suicide, i swear i love yurio, pls dont read this if shit makes u uneasy im a lil shit, why did I write this, wow this is super extra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 16:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10251221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthequeensenglish/pseuds/inthequeensenglish
Summary: Every good thing comes to an end. Yuri Plisetsky just didn't think something like this would happen to him. After all, the Russian Fairy would never make this mistake.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plunkiw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plunkiw/gifts).



> *holding this fic up as life drains out of me* pls read this....

Every good thing comes to an end. The last bite of a piroshki must be taken, you have to return home after a vacation, years end, seasons end, days end, and unfortunately, we will all die someday. Yurio knew that one day his career would end and he would retire, live out the rest of his life some way else… Maybe he could finish his studies and become a journalist? That always seemed interesting to him. Although, it  _ seemed _ . He’d probably hate it. Nothing compared to skating. Yuri Plisetsky had no life off the ice.

* * *

 

All of this began at a practice session in St. Petersburg. The 15 year-old had returned to cheers and praises. He was Russia’s bright star, their figure-skating world champion. Everywhere he went he heard:

“Yuri! We always knew you had it in you, boy. Congratulations!”

“Girls love figure skating, you know? How many dates have you gone on so far? I bet woman left and right are falling for you. Lock up your daughters!”

“Yuri, remember me? I was in your 7th grade Russian class! Mr. Smirnov?”

“Aha, there’s Yuri! You know, I practically raised this boy. Remember when you were being chased by that stray and I came with my gun and the boy practically transported himself away? Those were good times! You should come eat dinner with us later…”

He was quick with a pen and a smile for the camera, but it annoyed him to no end.

The only place he was free from the Russian ice-skating team’s private rink, so he spent most of his time there.

That day, he was accompanied by the whole team. Yuuri and Viktor were working together on their pair skate, both anxious and giddy like a couple of highschool sweethearts kissing under the benches ofthe football field. It was both annoying and heartwarming at the same time, but Yurio would rather die than admit he thought the latter of them. Mila was doing stretches by the sidelines, which Yurio pointed out was because she was an “old Grandma”. Georgi and Lilia were in the locker room, probably discussing his routine. He didn’t think there was much point to that, since the man only lacked confidence, not skill.

But that didn’t matter. The only thing that existed at this moment was him and the ice. The whole world went away as he glided on the ice, even Viktor’s obnoxious flirting couldn’t affect him as he readied himself for a jump.

_ This is what you’re best at, why do you feel so nervous? You’ve done this thousands of times, get a grip…! _

He had spaced out, and slammed into the board of the rink.

“Are you okay there?” Yuuri called out, skating over to the boy. He shook his head and frowned.

“I’m fine, pig. Go back to your make-out session.” 

_ What was that? Focus! What’s wrong with me? _

“Yuri, if you aren’t feeling well, you should get off the ice. You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard lately. You deserve a break.” The redhead girl said, leaning over the board.

“Shut up, bitch. You’re just jealous I’m better than you !” 

Yurio picked up speed, skating with an unnatural amount of fury. He didn’t even know why he was angry, he just knew something was irritating him and these…  _ assholes  _ were making it worse.

His feet moved by themselves because Yurio wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. Thinking back, maybe they were trying to sabotage themselves, maybe they were possessed or… any excuse that took the blame off him. Because the Russian Fairy would never make this mistake.

His feet started positioning themselves for the axel jump, he moved his hands out and took off, spinning in the air… and slamming on the ice, his legs still crossed over each other.

At that moment, Yurio knew exactly what had happened. He couldn’t feel it at first, but he knew what had happened.

The blade was resting  _ inside  _ of his left thigh. It had opened his skin, pushed itself in his leg and lay there as he tried not to move at all. He felt like throwing up and throwing punches all at once. 

Instead, the Ice Tiger of Russia let out a gut wrenching scream and let the rest of his body slam into the ice. Now he was useless, so any further injuries meant nothing to him. Nothing meant anything to him anymore.

“Yurio? Yurio? There’s blood, Mila, call the ambulance! Yuuri, fetch Yakov and Lilia!” Viktor said, pure terror reflected in his eyes. He also knew what had happened the moment he saw red on white. Everyone knew what had happened. But no one dared say it out loud.

“Viktor!” Every word only reminded him of the pain he endured being alive. Every word reminded him of his career, now instantly ruined. All he did was cry as Viktor helped him sit up, his legs still crossed. 

He was confused earlier, his mind was in some muddled daze. But now he knew exactly what had happened. Everything was clear, his past, present and future were all horribly clear. His future had been literally  _ stabbed by the blade of his skate _ .

Yakov, Lilia, Mila, Georgi and Yuuri all rushed to his side. All he could mutter was “I jumped, I jumped” and shaky crying into the grey-- no,  _ platinum blonde _ -haired man’s hair. Viktor looked at everyone with a pained but fatherly expression. The coaches brought down a stretcher for him, but Yurio prefered they leave his body there to bleed out and die in the only place he was truly happy. He knew he would never touch the ice after this.

“No! Don’t touch me! ...Viktor. I’ll never come back, will I?”

Lilia counted down, looking down sadly as she held his folded leg and quickly pulled out the blade from inside the boy’s leg and wrapped it fast in bandages as he groaned, hurt. His breathing picked up again as he grew agitated. His pain was fueling some kind of animalistic instinct to bark at someone. “I’ll never be able to skate again, huh? Answer me, you fucking prick! Coward! I hope you die! I hope I die!”

Mila twisted his arm and glared at him sternly. “If you keep screaming like a fucking toddler, I’ll make sure you never step foot in this rink ever again, understand?”

They laid him down again at the entrance of the rink. Yuuri took one look at the wound and made a mad dash for the bathroom with his hand over his mouth, which only made the teen even more aware of the crippling pain in his thigh. Viktor stayed by his side though, squeezing his hand as he spoke Russian words of comfort to a anguished teen.

“Yuri… This will probably hurt. Hold on, okay?” The 18 year-old said, kneeling down by his side and opening a first aid kit to take out a alcohol wipe. Yurio winced. “Breathe in.” 

A second pained scream.

He gritted his teeth and again slammed himself on Viktor’s chest, tears quickly drying on his flushed cheeks.

“You sneaky bitch…” 

“I know you’re in pain, but you better straighten up or I’ll do it for you, you hear me, Plisetsky?” Yakov warned.

His rinkmates took a glance at his leg and tried to keep a straight face. The bleeding had not stopped and the wound was as deep as they came.

“Damn it, when is that fucking ambulance getting here…? Yurio?” Viktor was frustrated, the injury had completely wrecked the boy. He could go from misery to fury in a matter of seconds. Right now, it was neither. Instead Yurio rested his head on the elder’s shoulder, looking at him with a pale and disoriented face.

His face was sweating and he wasn’t breathing quite normally, more like gasping for air as they tried to clean the wound.

“That… stings! Leave me alone! They’re gonna cut my leg off anyway, assholes!” He hissed. His voice was strained, pronouncing each syllable with emphasis as pain shot through him in waves.

For the second time that day, the world disappeared. Only there was no ice, he would never return to it of course, so it was only him and nothing else. That was going to be the rest of his life. 

Yuuri came running back in time to catch him falling off his fiancee’s shoulder.

“Stay with me, Yuri, come on.” He coaxed him to open his eyes again and kept talking to him to try to keep him awake.

“S-so tell me, do you like to watch TV?” Yuuri pushed him up and lay him on his shoulder.  _ Come on, come on, stay with us, Yurio. You’ll get through this,  _ he thought. 

But the teenager had already fell limp and unconscious on top of him.

* * *

 

Yurio’s eyes opened to the beige walls of a hospital, and he closed them tightly again in frustration.

_ “Yurochka!” _

That deep, raspy and… anguished voice could only belong to one person. Nikolai Plisetsky.

He didn’t want to talk though. What was there to say?

“I get it, you want to rest. Go ahead, my Yuri.” 

That bang of guilt hit hard. He could act standoffish and mean to everyone, but never Grandpa. He sat up, whimpering when he moved his leg. 

“Grandpa… I messed up.” He faltered. “I’m never going to skate again.”

Nikolai was a man of a few words. He always struggled with comfort and emotions… But this was his grandson, and if he could do anything to help him feel better, he would.

“Now,  _ Yurochka _ … We all make mistakes.” The boy was already tired of hearing that phrase. “You just have to dust yourself off and come back. It’s going to be okay. Just rest for now.”

_ But I don’t want to rest! I’m going to forget everything, or worse, I’m never going to be able to come back! Why doesn’t anyone understand how bad this is?! _

He was tired, though, so he closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

A thick, sweet smell surrounded Yurio when he woke up. The sun shone brightly, so it took some time for his eyes to adjust and let him see, but he already knew who it was. There was only one person who wore that ridiculous cologne.

“What are you doing here, asshole?” His voice came out raspy, probably due to not having used it much for the day he was here.

Viktor looked miserable. He was dressed in the same clothes as the day before, except for a grey hoodie he probably borrowed from Yuuri. His beard had been shaven unevenly, with the occasional unshaven tuft and nicks spotting his chin. He was still asleep on the chair, and the bags under his eyes indicated he had probably been there for some time.

“Viktor!” Yurio shouted, trying to get him to wake up. He tried to stand up, but a pain in his leg reminded him he probably shouldn’t. 

He picked up a book from the nightstand. He hadn’t remembered bringing anything to read…  _ Japanese For Dummies _ . Of course.

Aiming for the man, he threw it with a little more force than he had wanted to.

“Ah?!” Viktor sat up with a start. The book fell open on his chest. “Oh, thank you, Yurio. I was planning to go back to that lesson.  _ Arigato! _ ”

“Save the Japanese for your boyfriend, Viktor. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you… practicing? You have a routine to do and last time I saw it was trash.” His voice was heavy, reflecting how terrible he felt not being able to practice himself.

“Yurio… I wanted to come visit. I’m your friend--”

The teenager refuted him. “No, you’re not.”

“...okay. Still, I’m worried about you. How is your leg?”

_ Hurts like hell.  _ “It’s fine. Don’t get mushy on me or whatever. You’re not my dad.”

Viktor stood up, taking a wrapped present from the floor beside his chair. The wrapping paper was leftover from Yuuri’s Christmas celebration and taped on was a card signed from Yuuri, Viktor and Makkachin.

“What is that? I don’t need any of your pity gifts or whatever. I don’t want it.”

The elder looked like he was about to cry, but he left the gift quietly on the nightstand without shedding any. He didn’t want to seem so sentimental, he knew Yurio didn’t quite like that.

“It’s here if you change your mind later… Well, I have to go, um… Take care, Yurio, okay?” Viktor walked to the door, turning around before he left. “We all miss you in the rink, so… if you want to talk, just phone us? ...Love you, Yurio.”

“Shut up, idiot.”

He waited sometime to let Viktor properly leave, and then almost pounced toward the gift. He tore through the wrapping paper like a kid on his birthday. 

It was a cat-themed Japanese china set from Hasetsu. A tear fell from his eye and to the bubble-wrapped present. He didn't even want to imagine how much it cost. Under it, Yurio found a purple book. It didn’t seem like anything you would normally buy in a store, so he opened it in curiosity.

It was dozens of pages of pictures of them together and skating.  _ A scrapbook? How cheesy is this guy anyways? _

Once he put them back inside the box, he opened the card.

_ Koneko-chan! That’s Japanese for kitten, by the way. _

_ Me and Yuuri are wishing you a quick recovery! We need someone to beat us in competitions, and who else does that but you? _

_ Once you get better, we’re going to take you wherever you want. It’s been sometime since we hung out, The Russian Ice-Skating Dream Team. _

_ For now, focus on resting and getting better! _

_ Love, _

_ Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor Nikiforov and Makkachin _

Yurio tried not to cry, but it was already inevitable. He laid down and let the tears spill on the pillow. They’d dry quickly and no one would notice them. Maybe he could keep doing that. He felt like crying a lot lately, so he let it all out while he had the opportunity.

* * *

 

The next day was more slow. He woke up at a normal time, had some toast (even though he tried telling the nurse he wasn’t very hungry, she wouldn’t have it) and spent most of the morning watching TV. He had just finished an episode of Lost when someone came in.

“Hey, Yuri. How’re you feeling?” Mila asked, sitting down at the end of the bed.

“I’m fine. Don’t you have something better to do?” He turned off the TV begrudgingly. To be honest, he would rather watch infomercials than have to hear words of pity from them. 

“Don’t give me that shit. Be thankful for once in your life. You don’t know how much we’re worried for you, brat.”  _ That shut him up,  _ she thought,  _ but now I don’t know what to say… _

There was a long silence before Mila spoke up again.

“Oh! Lilia told me to bring this to you…?” She handed him a leather-bound book, worn out with some of the pages falling out.

“Give me that!” Yurio snatched it from her hands and clutched it to his chest.

“What, is that your journal or something?” Mila laughed and tried to get it back, but he managed to keep it from her.

“None of your business, bitch.”

She stifled a laugh. “Alright, alright…” She glanced at her watch.  _ 12:21 pm _ . “Hey, are you hungry? I could go for some pizza.”

His smile grew. Even though it wasn’t quite as good as say, katsudon or piroshkis, pizza was still something to be cherished.

Mila ordered two pizzas after a heated discussion of which topping they should get. (She wanted pepperoni while Yurio wanted Hawaiian. She argued that pepperoni was a classic and that he was ruining pizza by putting fruit on it.) Of course, secretly she was happy he was his normal self. She knew that this was hitting him hard, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

While they ate, she catched him up on all the antics that had happened in the rink while he was gone. He didn’t seem comfortable talking about it, though, so she put it off.

_ This is really hurting him, huh? Even though he doesn’t like talking about how he feels… You can see it in his face. The boy doesn’t deserve this. _

* * *

 

Later that evening, just as he was about to ask for dinner, someone knocked on the door. 

_ God, who else? Can’t they give me a break? _

“H-hey, Yurio… We don’t want to bother you but--”

“Just come in.” He sighed, sitting up.  _ This was going to be long,  _ he thought.

Viktor came in too, carrying a plastic bag full of something. Whatever it was, it smelled good.

“I j-just wanted to see… how you’re f-feeling?” Yuuri stammered, fiddling with his thumbs as he tried to avoid the teenager’s glare.

Yurio had been trying to ignore the ache, pretend like it wasn’t there, but now it all came back to him. That wound across his leg that had cursed his future. “It’s fine. Normal. Hurts a bit, I guess.”

“Are you sure? Well, uh, me and Viktor, we brought you some food… and tea. I think that helps. Of course, if you don’t want it, that’s good, I can’t force you to drink… I mean maybe you don’t really like tea and--”

The boy shook his head and held his hand out. He had grown fond of the drink ever since Hasetsu.

“Oh! Okay, okay… Uh, well, it’s Oolong.” Yuuri handed him a thermos. 

“...thanks.” 

They stared at each other awkwardly when he finished. If he thought Viktor looked miserable last time, he clearly hadn’t seen Yuuri. The man had already grown a stubble, and his eyes darted from object to object, like he was searching for something to say. The last time this happened was in Barcelona, and it was for a far better and more cheerful reason…

“Do you want to eat? We brought some sushi and… I don’t know what but Yuuri was working in the kitchen for hours.” Viktor asked, taking out what seemed like thousands of tupperware containers from the bag.

“Oh! Well I tried making something for you… but I’m pretty sure it came out wrong, I mean I’m not the best cook, you know? And I’m not even Russian so it’s not like I’ve grown up tasting--”

Viktor gave Yurio a container, ending his partner’s nervous stammering. He opened it carefully, a flash of hot steam warming the air around him. Inside were three slightly-burnt but otherwise perfect piroshkis.  _ Only Grandpa makes these for me… _

He smiled and took a bite.  _ Katsudon… in a piroshki… How did the pig learn how to make this? _

Yurio could feel the hot flash of sudden tears. He tried to resist them, but that only made him worse, and soon he could feel the stream falling from his eyes. Yuuri wrapped his arms around him and, as much as he wanted to resist, he ached for comfort. 

So he let himself be embraced by the two men he once thought his enemies.

* * *

 

“Mr. Yuri Plisetsky.” The name was lifelessly enunciated by a grey-haired man in a lab coat.

That was all this hospital was: lifeless. Even though it was supposed to save lives, it was draining the life out of him. All he wanted was to have things back the way they were. But that was a childish fantasy; he knew that time could not be rewin

“Ok, Mr. Plisetsky, if you could please sit down on the examination table, and we can begin…”

The words faded away. He didn’t have to pay much attention if he knew how this was going to end.

Yurio followed the simple commands the doctor gave him. He breathed in, he breathed out, lifted his leg up, brought it back down, opened his mouth, said  _ ah _ …

“...I just want to make sure the boy is well. We have to keep an eye on him, you know that injuries, especially on athletes--”

“And he’s such a young boy, he… has so much potential and he just won…”

“Are you saying I can’t take care of my own grandson?”

They were discussing him. It made him feel worse, how Lilia and Yakov talked about him like some kind of emotional, fragile teenager.  

The doctor stared at his x-rays for a while. Every furrow of his brow, everytime he put it up to the light, every tap of his chin only worsened his anxiety. 

“Mr. Plisetsky… We have some unfortunate news.” His face paled and he felt his grandfather’s hand on top of his. “The injury you sustained is deep, and even though it will heal eventually… We don’t know if that means you could return to ice skating. The way you sustained…”

His ears started to ring, his body felt faint and small in that cold doctor’s office. From now on, there was no “Yuri Plisetsky”, but a human being with no purpose for living.

He made a promise to himself that day and shared it with no one until it was too late.

* * *

 

If Yurio had any bit of hope when he first came to the hospital, it was gone by the time he left. No one said anything to him. Lilia simply pushed his wheelchair outside in dour silence as the rest followed behind.

_ My life… What do I have to live for? I can’t do anything because of this stupid leg! _

He could feel tears again, and he let them fall. After all, he had no reputation to protect anymore. People would no longer think of him as Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian Fairy. Soon enough, he would be nothing at all.

“Yuri…” Lilia handed him a tissue, which he bawled into. 

_ Get yourself together!  _ He chided himself.  _ You’re being such a baby! _

Yurio let himself be taken to Lilia and Yakov’s house. They tried to get him to do something, say something, but he didn’t find a reason to do so. 

He couldn’t think of anything but his failure, that jump that was his demise. All his accomplishments were shadowed by that single failure.

Nikolai made piroshkis, but they tasted bland and lifeless and reminded them of his situation. His cat tried to play with him, but he only had the energy to wistfully pet his back. Yakov asked him if he wanted to invite any of his friends or rinkmates, but he replied that he had none. They tried coaxing him to smile or laugh, but nothing was amusing. 

He fell asleep early that night, complaining of pain. It was his heart that hurt though, not his leg.

* * *

 

“Good morning,  _ Yurotchka _ . Do you want to go out today? We can do anything you want.” 

Yurio shook his head.  _ I already have plans, Grandpa, but thank you. _

He heated up a piroshki for himself and sat down at the table to eat it. He didn’t know why he ate it, but it was probably to avoid any conflict between them. Maybe eating gave off the impression that he was somewhat fine? Either way, he slowly chewed every bite, trying to cherish it even when it gave off no flavor. 

Lilia and Yakov left early in the morning, apologizing that they had to go practice so soon after… that. He assured it was fine.  _ I need them to leave, anyways. _

He laid down on the couch and flipped through his phone. He tried to avoid the hundreds of messages and missed calls he had, busying himself with deleting most of them.

There was a soft snore, and Yurio smiled.  _ Finally…  _

He wheeled himself to his grandfather’s room and found him fast asleep, just like he needed him to be.  _ I’m sorry, Grandpa. I don’t want to hurt you… But I can’t take it.  _

The medicine cabinet was unlocked since he  _ was _ supposed to take some painkillers. He took the bottle in his hand… unscrewed the top…

_ What will they think? They’ll be sad, probably… but can they blame me? They’ll forget me, they’ll move on. _

The pills fell one by one on his palm. He counted them. .. _.десять.  _ Ten. Was that enough? He took a few more, just to be sure. He pushed the doubt and guilt away every time he swallowed. It took some time to take them all, but in the end, it was worth it. He quickly put everything away and closed his eyes.

That day, he showed the world how fragile ice skater’s hearts were.

**Author's Note:**

> u survived??? lmao so pls leave a comment!!! anything!!!!


End file.
